By Watery Light
by Acacia0321
Summary: Reunions aren't always gushing and climatic- the stuff dreams are made of. They can be long winded and surreal; and painful in their own way. After first glimpses, Annabeth doesn't trust the watery light she wakes to. She needs to know he's still around the corner, because the lines between eight months of dreams and reality have too often been blurred. PERCABETH ONESHOT REVIEW


**Hi, this is just a one shot about reunions aren't always gushing and climatic- you know; the stuff dreams are made of? I guess they can be long winded and surreal, and that can be painful in its own way. **

**ANYWAY, on a fluffier note; the following paragraphs contain serious drabbling and Percabth fluff (surprise). This is my first fanfic, and please, I welcome flames, constructive criticim and all jerks alike. They amuse me. (But really, if there's something you think i could improve on, I'm glad to receive the advice.)**

**I tried to keep the characters true to themselves in dialogue (well, let's face it- there's only two. Hopefully i haven't managed to mess THAT up), but if you think their behavior is outragous, let me know. Or, on the off chance anyone like this story; please tell me!**

**In the meantime, read on! And by the way; in case you got confused, I in NO way own any part of the series Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

They hadn't even been in the other's presence for more than 24 hours. The Argo II had hovered at mid- afternoon, the senate meeting had dragged until late evening, and they had been directed to their separate cabins well past their bed time. A bone crushing hug, held gazes and averted eyes, and a subtle clawing at their chaperones to back the Hades off. None of such six events proposed much compensation for eight months of aching hearts and amnesia.

So when Annabeth woke up after a measly hour and a half of fretful sleep, shaking with the confusion of suspense and collapse, she needed to know he was still around the corner. Eight months of pressure building against her chest at the loss of him, and now she didn't know whether her lungs were busting from being thrown in the deep end and having to hold her breath, or they had torn like taught plastic and could no longer take in air.

She hastily threw off the blanket, ignoring the encroaching cold as it prickled her arms and legs. She walked stiffly out the door, then stopped mid pathway realising she had no idea where she was. He was still lost to her, and she was still lost without him. Only this time the disorientation had leapt out of her mind and had her standing in the middle of an unknown city. Frustration welled inside her chest and filled the spare space in her mind, and she tried to gasp in sense from the fresh air without looking desperate.

Her head turned sharply to the Praetor's barracks, but she would not allow herself to be relieved. That would only be prolonging her stupidity. Carefully, she picked her way to the door. It loomed in front of her; darkness and doubt turning it into a much more solid barrier than wood planks on hinges. She knocked timidly, then pushed the door open anyway- clearing the blockades in her mind.

He was lying there, face blank, lips parted. The bed was too big, and purple sheets were strewn in ropes over the mattress. It looked as though he were planning a getaway out a window in his sleep.

She listened to his breathing; shallow and disturbed. She doubted it would take much to wake him, but she stood rooted to her spot; feeling like an intruder and a natural extension to the environment all in one. She was deathly silent until her breath caught in her throat, and he startled awake, jumping once again at the sight of her held in a gravitational pull between the door and his bed. She could only imagine she looked like a phantom in the watery light; and the last thing any demi-god wanted to wake up to was a ghost decidedly haunting you. She didn't blame him from looking scared.

That was, until he realised it was her. Then the split second of fear melted into a sleepy smile, and his voice displaced her path of orbit.

"Hey, wise girl"

It was an old nickname- one she hadn't heard in years. It made her blush so furiously the first time he spiked it with sarcasm that she assumed he saved it for special events. But it was enough to pull her forward a few steps, the prospect of escape, and more prominently denial, losing its footing. The tug-of-war seemed so real it was all she could do not to stumble with the release of tension.

"I… I just needed to check there was still a brain clogged with seaweed somewhere here" She said slowly. It was the first time she'd spoken the raw truth in months. It felt foreign in her mouth.

He chuckled, and as he began to shift over in his bed, she said "Well, I should go now", but as she turned to the door she felt she was walking on legs that weren't her own, that were following another's orders and relaying all feeling to them instead of herself.

So she was relieved when at the sound of his unsure rasp her legs stopped carrying her away.

"Do- do… you want to, stay?"

His face was twisted with a mix of discerning exactly how sleazy what he'd said might have sounded to her, and a gradual withdrawal from her impending offended reaction.

Instead, she just smiled, knowing what he'd meant and how it had gotten tangled in his mind.

Once again, on legs she didn't own, she seemed to materialize by the bed, sliding into what remained as a covering. They lay facing each other for a quiet second before his arm wrapped around her waist and she melted into his embrace, relishing the sudden warmth and comfort. Settled against his chest, she breathed in deeply. In the back of her mind, she made a mental note one day to tell him it was hardly fair the only scent available to her was musty old scrolls while he got the fresh sea breeze. She also made a mental note to tell him that if the theory ever came to fruition he was most certainly _not _allowed to call her up on it.

But as he brushed a kiss against her forehead it was all she could do to wrap her arms around him a little tighter and plant a kiss on his neck as she drifted off into sleep. Her last thought was that his deep, slow breathing was the most comforting presence in her current existence.

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As the watery light belonging to the moon turned golden with daybreak, Annabeth looked through the black hair that flopped into her eyes. Percy's forehead rested against hers, and a few yellow curls fell between them. Eyes still closed, he mumbled something around a mouthful of drowsiness.

"I missed you, Wise Girl"

'_Wow,' _she thinks, _'Two 'wise girls' in under 24 hours… the six month sleep must have muddled with his edge…'_

But she's too content to insult him out loud, and she whispers her reply to the sliver of mattress between them.

"Missed you too, Percy"


End file.
